


A Crack of a Whip Against His Back

by AmateurScribes



Series: Whumptober 2019 [15]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Gen, Mercenaries, Prompt Fic, Scars, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 06:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: There's nothing as befuddling to Wash than the way that the Federal Army is run.Particularly how it seems to be run by cowards.





	A Crack of a Whip Against His Back

**Author's Note:**

> For the next two days, I'll be doing more for the merc!Reds AU and then there'll be one more to this series for this event! So I hope you guys enjoy! This follows after [The Burnt Bridge Holding Back a Damn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20959106) and [Why Did Cupid Have to Paint Love Blind?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023399)
> 
> For the duration of this event, all mistakes are my own!

If there's one thing Wash could say about the Federal Army, it's that strangely none of them want to fight. Not even a tiny bit.

And, there's a lot of them. It didn't seem like they were lacking in numbers  _ at all. _

Which leads him to believe that the only reason why they haven't won the war yet is because of the higher-ups.

Mainly, General Doyle and that mercenary, Nero.

He didn't know what he should have expected considering that after their attempted escape, the man had promptly collapsed at the slightest threat of violence.

Wash didn't really trust that he could lead an army, let alone find the way to his room in the dark.

And the mercenary wasn't much better. Wash would have thought that as hired help, he'd be trying to give the Federal Army  _ some _ sort of advantage. Maybe train them, or at the very least participate in missions with them.

But no, all Nero did was teach them how to retreat. The fact that the Fed soldiers driving skills had improved doesn't really help when confronted with one of the New Republic rebels.

And yet, this was somehow the man who had managed to incapacitate him, Wu, and Sharkface.

_ None _ of it made  _ any _ sense.

Nero was lazy, unskilled, and not very bright at  _ all. _ His stature wasn't very impressive- the stout man wasn't in any sort of good physical condition to take down a dog even if he tried.

And that  _ frustrated _ the hell out of Wash, because there must have been something that he was  _ missing- _ something that was being hidden under the surface on how this mercenary managed to make his portfolio- did hired guns even have those?- look desirable to the ever desperate general with dwindling hope of the Federal Army.

Well, that actually seemed to answer the question for him.

Didn't mean that he would take this conundrum lying down. No- he would get to the bottom of this.

So he tried his best to track down the other mercenary, but he seemed content to avoid him and the others well enough. He only managed to catch the other man once, but it was only a glimpse before Nero was gone. 

It was just when he was about to give up, planning on returning to the temporary quarters that Doyle had given them, that the mercenary finally showed his face.

Well, it was more like he blocked the path leading to Wash's room, a deep scowl on his face as he demanded, "Why the hell are you following me?"

It wasn't his sudden appearance that shocked Wash, but rather, it was the fact that the first real interaction that he was having with the man was while he wasn't fully armored.

Which meant that he got a full view of the other man's face, and he couldn't pretend as though there wasn't a person behind the helmet.

And look he did, his eyes soaking in the sight, committing the mercenary's face to memory.

Admittedly, he wasn't expecting the eye patch. Nor the long and ugly scar that was poking out from beneath the fabric, the tail end of it not hidden away by the cloth.

It was this scar that reminded him of York and the injury to the eye didn't help either- why'd it have to be that  _ same _ eye- and he felt compelled to look away, memories from the past haunting him when he thought he'd buried them far beneath the ground.

That wasn't the only thing that was familiar about the man. It was something about his eye, and the color of his hair and his skin, the bone structure of the face as well- all of it, it all felt like he had seen this person somewhere before. 

He just had no clue when or where.

"Well?" Nero pointedly asked again, crossing his arms as he stared him up and down- it's a slight chill on his cheek that makes Wash realize that he  _ too _ is without his helmet, his own less graphic scars and wounds on display as well- voice annoyed, but not otherwise concerned.

Wanting to save face, he responds, "I wanted to talk to you."

Nero raises an eyebrow, not quite believing him, even asking, "Me? What could you possibly want to talk to me about?"

"A few things actually," and he had to be subtle about this, he didn't quite want to reveal the true reason why he had been tracking the man down- didn't want to make it look like he didn't trust the man. He didn't.

"Ok, like what?" Nero leaned against the wall, getting comfortable as if they were going to talk about the weather.

"I wanted to ask you about your methodology with training the soldiers," start off as if he's committed to this side of the war- concerned with how the soldiers were doing. "Don't you think you could be doing more with their training? Such as, actually teaching them offensive tactics?"

Nero shrugged, seeming unconcerned with it, saying, "If you want to take the initiative then go ahead and you train them, I don't really see a reason for it, however."

"What?" the leader part of Wash curled its lip at this response, but the agent part of him kept his face neutral. "What could possibly make you say that?"

"The way I see it, it's better to instill a sense of self-perseverance in these kids," Nero closed his eyes with nonchalance. "Would you rather they die in droves or know when to retreat?"

"But that's  _ all _ they know how to do," and here Wash really did scowl, because this was the wrong way to go about instilling training in soldiers. "What are they supposed to do if they're ambushed one day? There's no way to retreat from a threat you don't see coming."

"I taught them how to play dead- don't give the enemy a reason to believe you're alive and they'll walk right past you," Nero opened his eyes at this bit, but the shadows that clouded them may have very well made it as if they had never opened at all. "Trust me on this."

"Have you ever been in a war before?" Wash saw that he wasn't getting anywhere with why he taught them the way that he did, so he figured out that he tried to wheedle more information about his back story as possible.

"Yep, enlisted" it doesn't seem as though he'd elaborate further than that. "That was before I met that asshole S- Wombwell, and look how he turned out."

Head shooting up, Wash's eyes widened at that name, recognizing the first mercenary that they had on this planet.

"You know Wombwell," he asked, eyes narrowing. "Funny, he never mentioned you."

"I don't suppose he would, the guy's a real nutcase," Nero twirled his finger by the side of his head. "Totally went off the deep end one day, it's not surprising that he'd get involved in this civil war."

"And what about you," Wash points out. "Why're you here?"

Nero turned his face away from Wash, but answered nonetheless, "Before, I've always cleaned up Wombwell's messes- well, not his physical messes, because that'd be menial work- and well, this is just another mess I'll have to clean up in the end too."

"So that's it? He lies and tricks people and you just follow behind like an obedient dog?" Wash questioned.

"I've always preferred cats actually," Nero sneers at him.

"So like a lion following its tamer?" and Nero seems uncomfortable at that phrasing.

"What's with all these questions?" Nero rolled his visible eye, deflecting from the current train of thought. "What are you, a cop?"

And just like that Wash is transported to a different time and a different planet altogether, staring down the abrasive soldier in yellow as she indignantly asked the very same question.

That's how he's seen this man before.

"What's with the face?" he must have let his revelation- more of theory really- show on his face because Nero seems confused at the change in Wash.

"Oh, it's nothing, you just reminded me of someone I met a very long time ago," he states as casually as he can manage. "I think it was a Private Grif? Yeah, that was her name."

_ Bingo. _

Nero's eyes widened at the mention of the name before he schooled his expression.

He continued, "I've only ever seen her first name from her files, I believe it was Kekena? You might know he-"

"It's  _ Kaikaina," _ Nero interrupted, face stormy. But then the storm lifted and it went through a litany of emotions before settling on vainly concealed interest. "Where is she now?"

"Last I've heard," he stares him down, knowing that what he said next would be important for him to see the reaction of. "She's dead."

The shock of hearing that makes Nero step back, pain splashing onto his face that Wash wouldn't be surprised if the mercenary at that moment felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

It's not in the name of pure maliciousness that makes Wash continue with his prodding, "Some of the others told me that she enlisted to follow after her brother who was drafted, but she never found him, no matter how hard she looked."

"Fuck you," Nero- but Wash has a feeling deep in his gut that that's not the mercenary's real name, call it intuition- snapped, vicious in the way his fists curled. 

Wash half expects the mercenary to punch him, but instead, his heated expression cools down, and he's reaching behind him to pull out some sort of chip.

"You know, I didn't really want to give this to you, but now you leave me no choice," Nero glowered. "Enjoy your worthless fucking Mantis, it's about as good as  _ dead _ too."

He slammed the chip into Wash's chest, not stopping to watch the other man fumble with it as he stormed down the hallway.

Looking over the chip, he pondered why the other man felt like now he had to give him this- and Wash deduced that is was probably the remnants of Freckle, and he grimaced at the thought of telling Caboose that is 'dog' was dead.

Wash thought that perhaps, he'd see Nero a few more times, but he never did. It was as though the other man was avoiding him and everyone in the base, but now Wash felt that it was out of some sort of mourning rather than his previous lack of care.

He's walking down the hallway, intent on finding Doyle to ask about providing some sort of offensive training for the soldiers.

And then, out of the blue, a thought occurred to him- nowhere did Wombwell mention the Federal Army having their  _ own _ mercenary.

That seemed like it would've been an important thing to point out- would have made Wash and the others more cautious during the Federal attack.

Especially since Nero claimed that they  _ knew each other _ before simultaneously ending up here on Chorus.

Before he could ponder the thread of thought any further, the alarms were blaring, and he rushed off to join his fellow Reds and Blues, all suspicions of something deeper happening on Chorus being forgotten.

Until they're answered just a few moments after. And like that, everything all clicked together. 

**Author's Note:**

> I was having such a good time when I remembered that Locus and Felix are _codenames_ and then I was having a bad time trying to figure out codenames for Grif and Simmons that _weren't_ colors. At least I found a combo that I liked a lot!
> 
> If you'd like to contact me you can find me at either of my Tumblr's: @agent-murica (main) and @amateurscribes (writing)!


End file.
